


The Butcher Gang in Breaking Free

by MetasActReon



Series: Hi-Jinx AU [5]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Backstory for three of the studio's resident ink antagonists, Cw cysts, The Butcher Gang - Freeform, dark puddles, mild violence, tales of the studio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20497361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetasActReon/pseuds/MetasActReon
Summary: The Butcher Gang has many clones of themselves that are created and controlled by the dark puddles, turned into mutated monstrosities with only one goal... to kill. However, a coincidence may just cost the dark puddles a few of their puppets.





	1. Fisher/Barley

**Author's Note:**

> Since I might not be posting more chapters of Puddles for a while, I figured I'd let ya'll have the first chapter to this short story. I hope you enjoy. If anyone wants this reposted in a way that makes it easy for text to voice readers to read, please ask!

G̶̳͛e̵͇̋̆t̷̲̀̚ ̶̪̌̔h̸̡̓i̸̬̭̽̚m̴̨͉͒̎!̶͙͎͐

̶̣̝̓K̸͎͔̓i̴̧̡̋͆l̶͋͜͝l̶̝̒̃ͅ ̵̭͂̐ǐ̵͚̄ͅt̶͖̑̆!̷̰̜̌

̷̟̣͝Ḏ̸͇̄r̷̘̄͝å̸͖̭͑g̴̫͛ ̷͎̤͒ē̶̹̇m̶̬̌ ̶̯͚̅̂d̷͍̏̅o̵͕̰̎w̶̲͍͘n̶̨̓͛.̵̙͗̏

The ink creature was escaping. He knew it was escaping. He couldn't let that happen. They wanted it. They wanted its stability.

He swung out at it, lashing with his head. The inky being stumbled.

G̵͈̃e̶̢̠͋͑t̴̡͛̈ ̵͚̲̐e̴͎̓͝m̶̪̫͝!̷̤̊

̴͚̥̒Ṯ̸̞̔̎h̸̹̹͐ä̶̹̯́̊t̵͓͑'̵͎̙̀͆s̷̺̟̈́̚ ̷̬͐͐i̶̜̽͐t̸͙̰̑!̶̢̡̒

̴̣̠̀S̵̨̓̊e̶̝̝͋̍n̸̥d̴̥́͂ ̷͕̈́i̵̧͕͛t̷̞͎̉ ̶͙̹͌b̶̖͑ā̶̛̰c̶͕͍͊k̵̗̝̚͝!̸̥̔̎ͅ

He approached, training an eye on the being as it rolled over, ink dripping. He gripped his wrench tighter, readying for the final destabilizing hit.

His legs fell out from under him, a force knocking him down. Cysts popped, stinging but cushioning. He tried to get back up, but the being tackled him, throwing him into a box and closing the door.

G̶̫̟͊e̴̅͜ţ̶͛̿ ̶̜̑͌o̸̰̊͝ṳ̸͔́͆t̶͚̏̎!̴̛̥

̴̤̽E̵͓̥̎s̵̱̚͠c̴̹̹͗̌a̶̡͙͛p̷̹͗̾ẹ̸͛!̶̘͈̆

̷̭̻̎W̴̗͉̓ē̸̦ ̷̨̑̅n̸̢͔͌̽e̴̜̬̋ē̸͍͈d̸̝̯́ ̶̫̂̕h̵̙͑͒i̷̦̱̚m̴̫̳̏!̷̪̌͐

̴̳͍̽B̷̡́̒r̴͚̈́̋i̴̲͋̿n̴̫͉̍ǵ̸̰͔̚ ̵̈́͜ï̸̖̰t̵͉͑̈́ ̷͕͛b̷͓̰̀͝a̴̺̋́c̶̨̈́͛ǩ̵͍̠!̵̨̱͛

He shoved against the door, just as there was crashing outside of it. The door shook, but didn't budge. He hit the door with head and wrench, but the door was too heavy, something blocking it.

The Fisher kept at it, bashing everything he has against the door again and again with every ounce of his being, unable to do anything besides what the puddles commanded, unable to rest despite the painful stinging of his ruptured cysts being bashed repeatedly against an unmoving door.

. . . Thump-ump.** Thump-ump. Thump-ump.**

̵̢̨̨̭̟̬̗͕̟̙͈̝ͯ͊͐̌ͭͩ̄̂̾̄̃̄ͧ̂̽̏̌ͣ͠ ̷ͮͭ̿ͧ͑̿̽͋̌ͫ͆̃̈́̊ͧ͘͏̷̲̯͕͔͓͇͔ ͩ̀̇̓ͯ͟҉̛̜̲̳͉͕̙̝̫̬͇͖͓̠̞̺̳̹͇͘ ͊ͤ͒̃̆ͪ̅̿̄̆̽ͪ҉̧̝̘̙̰͉͚͟͢ ̵̷̮͇̼̳͚͖͉̳͚̣̮̻̬̬̠͍̩͓̺̗̳̫̻̦̩̩͆͒ͯ̅͒̃ͮ̿̏̐ͯ̾͐ͧͮͩͣ͆̾̄ͥ͛̏̆ͧ͐ͯ̎ͫ͑ͭ̄̾ͨ̔͘͢͝͠ͅ ̛́̓ͣ̓̈́͌̔̍́̑̐̚̕͝͏҉̮̯͕̪̥̱̼̲̮͔̱̠̤̺ͅͅͅ ̶̴̨̥͉̼̥͖͉͔̟̯̦͍̱͖̺͙͖͎̩͂̂̇͊̽ͮͨͬ̒̿̚͜ ̡̻̹͉͇̪̝͙ͬ̑͐̐̓̅̿ͯ̔͋͑ͫͣ̈́ͩ͊ͮ̄͢ ̵̴̪̭͎̙̟͗ͦ͑̿̃̿ͥ͐͛͐͗ͮ̉̇͜͞ ̡͒ͫ̇ͬͨͮ̀ͩͯ̽͠͏̳̫͓͙̗͇̤͉̩͎̪̣̬̭̹͟ ̴͈̜̮̬̤͔̭̌̃̿̓̎́̀̂̋̎ ̸̦̝͖͔̦̐ͭ̌̓̽̀̕ͅ ̛̰̯̤̱̘̣ͧ̾̈̽̅ͩͬ͒̅̽̿̚͝ ̸͉̲͇̟͓̩͕͕̩͌ͨ̿ ̴̞̮͇͇̥̼̫ͪ̊ͥ̀̈́ͦ̔̆͑ ̢̻ͨͤ͒̽͞ ̷̸̨̰̤͍̲͕̤̝͒́͗̋̓ ̨̞͙͑͗̑͑̋͂͆̚̕ ̸͙̣̜͇͂̂̉̓̾̄ ̖̯̣̤ͯ̔͛ ͎̣͈̰̐̑̇͊̅͌ͩͫ ͈͗͛̇̈ ̜̫̋͒̇̍̏͗̆͛̚͜͠͏̴̰̱͍̜̝ͅ ̸̦̈́̆ ̷̫̺̥̬̫̏̅͗̿͆̉̎ ̴̞̉̓̈̚ ̵̣̬̮̏̅̿͒͜͜͝ ̴̟̦̻̙̳̈̈́̌̊ ̸̫̪̝̘̀ͩ̇ ͖͗͂̀̅̍ ̨̙̣͇̞͇̘̓ ̫̠̥̤͚̼̞̋̀̾̂̄ͧ̈͟ ͧ ͆̍͟ ̸̰͎̹͙̱̐̅ ̶̧͈͚̙̓́͗̌͠ ̢̬̱̼̱̩ͬͥ͜ ̴̹̇͆ ̵̮͌̓ ̴ ̷ ̵ ̶ ̷ ̶ . . .

**Thump-ump. Thump-ump. **Thump-ump. . . .

The fisher set his wrench on the ground and grabbed his head to better look at the situation. The silence in his mind was unnerving, and the throbbing coming from the side of his face was much more persistent than before. He lifted his head up to peer out of the miracle station. There was a shelf dumped in front of the station, trapping him within. His previous attempts had only given him a slight opening.

His eye fixed on the thin opening and he picked up his wrench._ If I can just get a little leverage..._

He pressed the wrench into the opening as best he could and pulled, his head bumping against his body. With a little time and elbow ink, the opening increased until he was able to push his body through. Tugging on the line that connected pole to head showed that he wouldn’t be able to escape without further work, though.

Feeling around, the fisher got a good hold of the shelf and yanked. His head popped loose and he stumbled backwards, falling on his butt and head slamming against the floor. The last of his cysts popped open, leaving new splatters of his ink on the ground, the stinging increasing before mellowing into the dull ache already engulfing the entirety of his body.

The fisher looked at the miracle station and toppled shelf for a long time, no longer being driven to do anything by the insatiable dark puddles that had once controlled him. On he stared, unsure as what to do with his newfound freedom.


	2. Striker/Edgar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fisher, with his newfound freedom, wanders the halls. After realizing he is so very alone, he sees someone familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been busy and dealing with grief, but I got this chapter done quite a while ago. I hope I can get back to writing Puddles soon, but... Who knows. For now, enjoy the next chapter of this.

The Fisher wandered the halls, listening to the noise brought on by it's own feet against hardwood. It muttered to itself, words unrecognizable, to fill the silence. It was so quiet outside of his own noises. He was alone. _Barley_ was alone.

An inky figure spotted him and ran away. He didn't follow. There was no point to follow something like that. He didn't need to kill them, that drive was gone. And there was nothing connecting them. No reason for the thing to join in this wandering. 

So Barley wandered on, until the noise of muttering, familiar to his own, reached his battered ear. He approached a corner, pushing his wrench into his liar's belt and poking his head around the corner. It was a Striker.

The ex-slave of the dark puddles watched The Striker, Edgar, walking around, it's head mouth babbling nonsense. Barley followed, keeping his distance. He felt a draw to the being. He needed to make contact, but not with the dark puddles.

Then he spotted the miracle station.

Barley tackled the Striker into a wall, getting too close and personal for the spring arm to hit. Barley's wrench was knocked to the floor as the Striker flailed. The Striker's left hand slid against the wall as the spring released, his right hands pushed and clawed at Barley, popping a couple of his reformed cysts while they were at it.

It was difficult, but Barley maneuvered the both of them into the station and forced the Striker against the back as he yanked the door closed. It's struggling didn't stop, its spring fist hitting the sides as it babbled, but the closed space made it difficult and Barley managed to pin the two smaller arms.

Hours past. Maybe days. Barley held out, despite the fact he was tiring. He hadn't slept in... ever since the puddles spewed him out. Hadn't needed to. Having his body be entirely his own was exhausting him... making him weak. Who knew when the Striker would overwhelm him. 

Barley felt a stirring of something uncomfortable within him, but he pushed it down. No, right now he needed to focus on this Striker until the ink demon came, until what happened to Barley turned this Striker puppet into Edgar. Just as his limbs began to tremble and his control was beginning to wane, a beat thudded softly through the floor, sound following soon after.

. . . Thump-ump. **Thump-ump. Thump-ump. **Thump-ump. . . .

As the striker's fight left him, leaving the disfigured spider to relax, Barley sank against him, not caring that his head was pressed uncomfortably between them.

_ It is done. The task is done. I’ve got him. _

Barley shallowly pondered for a bit, over his use of language to organize those thoughts. It was the first internal voice he had heard since the puddles that had only screamed and cried within him. After a few minutes, he pushed the thoughts away, which were too much for the simple being, and readjusted himself, balancing his head on both of their shoulders. Edgar babbled quietly as the deformed pirate fell asleep.


	3. Piper/Charley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two malformed goons wander the studio, Barley no longer alone... but what can the both of them do without a leader?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally started working on Puddles again. Hopefully I'll have a few chapters prepped for ya'll by the time I'm finished posting this story.

When Barley woke, the two quietly extracted themselves from the miracle station, cautiously looking for any probable aggressors. Barley retrieved his wrench from the ground and the two went along their way, mumbling incoherent babble to each other.

As they wandered the halls, Edgar would wander off and either need to rush to catch back up to Barley, or Barley would need to locate and find him, which was difficult for the slower paced disfigured pirate. Progress through the studio was slow, the two working too poorly together as a unit to get anywhere.

. . .

As Barley finally found the disformed spider after having him wander away, yet again, Barley grabbed at the spring arm, yanking Edgar to follow his lead. The mutilated spider squirmed in Barley's grip, teeth gnashing on the top of his head as he fought the controlling grasp of Barley. Barley struggled to go down the hall to their left, but Edgar planted his feet resulting in the two going nowhere.

Edgar tried to pry Barley’s hand off of him, kicking out with one foot that landed squarely on Barley’s knee.

The pirate growled and yanked heavily on Edgar’s arm while trying to knock his other leg off balance, but the spider’s limb was too firmly attached to the ground.

. . .

A babbling made the two freeze mid fight: Barley's string pulled tautly from his rod in one of Edgar's right hands, the lower right hand of Edgar pushing Barley’s head far away from him, inky splatters from Barley’s repopped cysts covering the both of them, Edgar’s spring arm at full extension with Barley's fingers locked around the middle (making the spring incapable of tightening,) and Barley’s other hand ready to strike the Edgar with its wrench. Their heads simultaneously turned to look at the source of the babbling, to find a Piper staring at them from not far away. 

The Piper tilted his head as if he were listening to something, before lurching forward and swinging his pipe wrench at the two rogues. Barley and Edgar shared a quick glance before releasing each other and quickly standing back up. Edgar's spring coiled tightly before rocketing his fist out into the Piper's right shoulder. The Piper stumbled backwards while Barley shoved his wrench into his belt and snatched the Piper's wrist. He yanked the Piper to himself and bear hugged the agitated ink creature to him.

Edgar lead the way to a nearby miracle station he spotted while wandering and Barley shoved the Piper inside, closing the door and leaning against it. He pointed to a nearby shelf until Edgar nodded and began pulling it towards the miracle station. Cans of bacon soup fell from it, knocking across the floor loudly.

As the two got the shelf firmly placed against the door, a familiar thumping could be felt through the floorboards.

Without wasting another second, both of them ran away to hide, fearing the ink demon and his corrupting ink.

. . .

Once the coast was clear, the two found their way back to the miracle station they had left the Piper in. Working together, they pushed the shelf out of the way, revealing the dazed Piper within. He looked between the two who had trapped him in there as they babbled to each other, as if talking about him. 

Charley glared at them with his one eye before, almost mockingly, muttering, "Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."

Barley and Edgar straightened up, Barley's head swaying a little from the movement, as Charley dusted off his own shoulders with his pipe wrench. With a nod to his two lackeys, the malformed leprechaun began purposefully walking down the hall. Barley and Edgar shared a glance before dutifully following the leader of the Butcher Gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all together again! Just one more chapter folks, to set their place in the studio. (And the last chapter is the longest, so look forward to next Monday!)


	4. With Charley, Barley & Edgar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three liberated toons find a place to claim. A place they will stay, a place they will defend, a place of their own. But, first, they need to clean it out and make it feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! I finished a multi chaptered fic on here! And we also get to figure out what becomes of this gang of freed Butcher puppets. Hope ya'll enjoy.

Charley led his crew around for a long time, the three of them liquidizing any clones and searchers that dare threaten their freedom.

They traveled down into the depths of the studio, using secret passages only the agents of the dark puddles dared to use. No one with any brains would use the Angel's elevator, and while the Butcher Gang didn't have much on brains, these three did have something free creatures had... a longing for preservation. 

They arrived to the levels where the lost ones hid and fought back against the puddles, not much lower than where Barley had started out. The three kept to themselves, not caring how the lost ones fled from their presence. They used to be harbingers of destruction and still bared the look, after all.

It wasn't long until they found themselves in BendyLand. After searching the different places and fiddling with the games and items, they made their way into the Research and Design room. Charley looked around the place, they cleared out a couple searchers, and he decided that it would be theirs.

As Edgar went off to fiddle with things in the different areas, Barley sat down to relax, placing his head in his own lap. Charley inspected the main section of their claimed territory, taking account of the cutout in the corner and the large Alice Angel head. He glared at the head until he heard clanging down one of the halls. He limped towards the noise, Barley getting up to follow. A crying made it to their ears, and the clanging got louder.

Upon turning the corner, they spotted Edgar hitting at a chain linked fence blocking him off from a crying lost one. It wasn't even trying to get away. Either it knew it was safe... or it was too broken to know anything but despair. Charley babbled, catching Edgar's attention, before waving his pipe wrench offhandedly. Edgar glared at the lost one for a moment before nodding and going further down the hall. Charley followed him as Barley returned to the outside.

They found large duck heads and many blueprints. A robot that resembled the ink demon made Edgar back away, but Charley, after giving it a couple seconds to move on its own, bravely approached it and hit it with his pipe wrench. When it failed to react he turned away, satisfied.

As he went to rejoin Edgar, something clamped on his stub of an arm and jerked him back. Charley groaned in surprise and Edgar squeaked in alarm. The animatronic made some whirring noises, squeezing Charley who flailed, hitting it with his pipe wrench over and over, making half of its face snap off. Edgar rushed forward and tried to pry the arms open. 

Barley, alerted by the noises of his comrades, rushed in and saw the scene unfolding in front of him. He approached the animatronic and struck it's midsection with his wrench. A bolt broke and the Bendy robot fell back onto the table, broken in two. Ink leaked from its insides and hollow metal rods as the whirring quieted and died out.

Charley stumbled and fell, light headed from the squeezing. Edgar handed him a can of bacon soup. Charley stared at it for a minute before slowly opening it and swallowing the contents. It made him feel better and he nodded approvingly at Edgar. He stood back up and made his way out of this area, deaming it fine. The other hallway was boarded up so he chose to ignore it for now.

Barley cuddled his head, once again sitting against a wall. He quietly babbled, before shivering. "Yar, ye pirate cold," his rough croak of a voice came out. 

Charley and Edgar stared at him for a moment before Charley rasped out, "Yeah," and started going up the stairs.

Edgar moved to follow, but Charley motioned for him to stop.

The two abandoned ink creatures stayed down in their territory, rarely making some quisitive sounds to each other.

Finally, Charley arrived up above, moving slowly. He carefully came down the stairs, one of the ever-burning candles in his grasp. His plunger came down wrong on the last stair causing him to stumble and drop the candle. Edgar shot his arm out and caught the falling candle before it could land on the ground. All of them looked closely at the candle until it was confirmed that the flame had not gone out.

Charley picked himself up off the ground and dusted off before heading down the hallway once more. There was a bang and then a sound of quieter clangs. He came around the corner, kicking a metal barrel, a large fistful of blueprints wadded in his hand. He dropped the blueprints and pulled the barrel up to the center before going over to the boarded hallway. He began yanking at the boards and it wasn’t long until Barley got up and joined him. It took a little while, but the boards came loose and Barley was able to kick them in half.

Charley placed the boards in the barrel and grabbed up the blueprints to throw on top, keeping one. He motioned for Edgar to come over and used the candle to light the paper on fire. He placed the burning blueprint in with the others and the contents of the barrel were soon ablaze. As the other two crowded around the source of warmth in fascination, Charley grabbed the candle and placed it on a desk above, out of the way but not far away.

Charley joined his comrades down stairs, pulling his pipe wrench from his vest and knocking on the wall to get attention. Once the others were staring at him, he motioned to the area and then pointed to himself with his wrench, making some incoherent attempts at speech. He then motioned to the stairs before swiping with his wrench. “No. One. Else.” he mustered up.

Edgar glanced at the right hallway before pointing quizzically.

Charley waved it off. “It no one.”

Edgar nodded as if he understood.

With that, Charley gave a cry and Edgar and Barley joined in, the sounds creating a sort of warped cheer that echoed throughout the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave me comments and check out other stories in this series. I've got the feeling this isn't the last time we'll be seeing these three. In fact, I've got the feeling they have more to give us than just a backstory for why we have three unmotivated distractable Butcher Gang members in the Research and Design department...


End file.
